


Tiger Mommy

by trialanderror12



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Crack, F/M, If I were a little better at this I would claim the tag:, M/M, Maybe this is just a very well played trick to drive the rest of them bonkers, MentallyUnstable!Loki, Mothering, Unreliable Narrator, but probably not, probably, silliness, what is this I don't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3556967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialanderror12/pseuds/trialanderror12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For snow’s birthday, for the prompt “Loki is the Avengers’ den mother. None of the other Avengers understand what he’s doing.” Crack, as you can probably guess. Loki/Thor, because what else is there? Background Clint/Natasha and Steve/Tony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiger Mommy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [atypicalsnowman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/atypicalsnowman/gifts).



> I really, really tried, but I think this came out as more Loki’s-just-crazy than crack. Oh well. Hopefully there’s enough adorable to be its saving grace? I put way a lot more effort into this than it looks like, I promise…

Loki was artfully slicing the last sandwich into four perfect triangles when Tony came barreling through the kitchen and into the living room of the tower’s main floor. 

“Look alive, people!” Tony called, fingers flying across a StarkTab. “JARVIS has Bad News registering all over the city. Sending you all the locations now.” Loki carefully slid the sandwich into a small paper bag and folded the top down. 

Soft beeps echoed throughout the room as everyone received Tony’s transmission; Steve nodded seriously as he studied the data on his watch. “Best if we split up for this. Standard team configuration delta. Keep the radios clear for vital reports—I don’t want important information getting lost in the shuffle like last time.” Tony whistled innocently as Steve’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer at that last, and the team grabbed their battle essentials and made their way toward the elevator door.

“Wait!” Loki cried out across the room, stopping them all in their tracks. “You forgot your lunches!”

Everyone froze in place and turned to stare at him like they’d spotted an alien standing in their midst (which they kind of had, except for Thor, but that was really not the point). All except Natasha, who calmly walked over and took the paper bag from his hand, kissing him on the cheek. “Thanks, Lokes,” she said, and then she nimbly skirted through the still-frozen crowd of Avengers to beat them to the elevator. 

After a few more beats of silence (complete with Loki frowning at them all, crossing his arms across his chest), Thor stepped forward. “No crust?” he asked hesitantly, not sure what to say to the creature that may or may not be impersonating his brother.

Loki plucked a bag off the counter and handed it to him. “Of course, silly.” Loki leaned forward and kissed him goodbye, strangely chaste, and Thor just shook his head after a minute (deciding to file this incident away under The Usual Crazy) and followed after Nat, sandwich in one hand and Mjolnir in the other.

The other Avengers traded glances and shrugged, coming forward and mumbling thanks as Loki passed the proper sandwich bag to each of them. They were on their way out the door when they heard Steve exclaim in surprise behind them. “Banana and honey!” He was staring at Loki with some surprise; Loki was just smiling genially back. “How did you know?”

Loki rolled his eyes affectionately. “Nothing but the best for you lot,” he said simply, then waved at them all in a shooing motion. “Now get out of here! Don’t you have a planet to save?”

After another moment of confused silence they obeyed, sandwiches stashed carefully away as they followed after Nat and Thor to battle the latest calamity to strike Earth. None of them wanted to imagine what would happen if they discarded the small paper bags and Loki found out. And he would _definitely_ find out. He always knew, somehow.

And when Clint opened his bag a few hours later to find tuna salad and pickles on whole wheat bread toasted one side and not the other, he definitely wasn’t secretly pleased. At all.

(He did check it for poison before devouring it in five bites.)

—————

Loki was humming contentedly when they returned, exhausted, from battling a scourge of terraforming squid-monkey hybrids. He bent to pull a tray of chocolate chip cookies from the oven, and Tony’s eyes zeroed in on the sugary treats. Thor’s fell somewhere else entirely, but Tony was quicker. He reached out to snag a cookie from the tray, and Loki deftly slapped him on the hand with a spatula without turning his head. “Hey!” Tony exclaimed, nursing the “wound” on his finger. He tried to sneak the other hand by and Loki spun on his heel, hands on his hips as he stared challengingly at the tower’s resident miscreant. 

“Not until after dinner,” Loki said firmly. “Go wash up, it’ll be ready in a few minutes. Or did you want to try that again?” Loki asked, and Tony hesitated. Now that Loki was facing him he could see the frilly lavender apron he was wearing, bold block letters proclaiming I SAW THAT. Well, no one had ever accused Tony of not having a problem with authority. He inched his hand forward a bit, keeping an eye on Loki the entire time. Loki swatted his hand away before he’d moved an inch.

“One more time,” Loki said, warning in his tone. “Go on, try it.”

Tony also wasn’t suicidal, so he backed away a little at this point, mumbling something to himself about being ordered around in his own home. He might have gotten another threat or twelve for good measure, except Thor ambled over and took his place right at that moment. Loki smiled at him, a mixture of relief and pride in his expression. “Hi, baby,” he said, pulling him into a hug. “Have fun saving the world?” 

Thor just laughed into his ear and pulled back a bit, examining the apron. The letters had changed as Thor got closer, and they now read KISS THE COOK.

Well, Thor wasn’t going to say no to that. He pulled Loki back in for a kiss, closing his eyes and releasing some of the tension of the day. But Thor couldn’t contain a soft, pained noise when Loki slid his fingers into his hair, and Loki released him instantly, frowning up at him. “What happened?” he asked, transitioning from gentle to brisk and no-nonsense in an instant. “Did you get hurt again?” He was parting Thor’s hair carefully, searching for whatever injury had garnered that reaction.

“It’s nothing, honestly,” Thor placated him. “Just a little bump on the head. It’ll be fine in a few days, it’s just sore right now.”

Loki hummed noncommittally and prodded the swollen red spot gently, pulling another hiss of pain from Thor. “It may or may not be nothing, but it’s not up to you to decide that,” Loki insisted. “There’s always a doctor in the house, after all. Bruce?” he called, raising his voice a bit so Bruce could hear him from where he was talking quietly with Steve on the sofa. “Can you come take a look at this, please?”

Bruce ducked into the kitchen and stood beside Loki to examine the lump on Thor’s head. If he noticed the words on Loki’s apron reacting to his proximity, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have much to say in response to KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON, anyway.

A few minutes later Bruce pronounced Thor in good health, suggesting ice and some ibuprofen to deal with the pain and swelling. Thor declined, insisting he had dealt with far worse pain and would be fine, so Loki marched over to the refrigerator and took out one of the steaks that was defrosting for dinner tomorrow night. He returned and plopped it on top of Thor’s head, earning him a look of bewilderment. “What are you doing?” Thor asked, shifting a little to maintain his balance and keep the chunk of meat atop his head.

“It’s what they do in all the Earth television,” Loki returned defensively, crossing his arms. “Steve and I have been watching the programs he missed while he was frozen; he wants to catch up to the times, and I thought it prudent to learn the customs of the planet I’m living on.”

Bruce excused himself without a word, and Thor nodded at Loki, accepting this explanation. “Of course, if it is a tradition of this planet then we should follow it. Have you means to secure the meat to my head, or am I to balance it myself?”

Loki wasn’t sure; the programs hadn’t gone into that much detail. In the end he spelled the steak to stay in place, deciding they were upholding the spirit of the custom well enough. Tony reappeared in the doorway at exactly that moment, covering his mouth to stifle his laughter at the sight. Loki frowned at him. “Have you washed up for dinner?” he asked, settling Thor into a chair at the kitchen table to rest. 

Tony managed a yes, and Loki nodded purposefully. “Good. Now come make yourself useful and set the table,” he ordered, lips curving upward a bit when Tony’s grin slipped at the command. He obeyed, though, having tested Loki’s patience a few too many times in one day for his comfort, and most of the places were set when Natasha wandered in.

“Hey, Lokes,” she said, ignoring Tony and Thor entirely and hopping up to sit on the counter next to the stove. “Need help with anything?” 

Loki gave her a genuine smile. “Everything’s almost ready, I just have to get it onto the table. Would you care to gather everyone for dinner?”

“Sure,” she agreed easily, sliding nimbly back to her feet. She glanced down at Loki’s apron and the two shared a private smile at what it read before she slipped back out of the kitchen and into the living room. “Soup’s on!” they heard her call, and Loki started spooning dishes onto serving platters.

Thor’s head earned quite a few odd glances as the team filtered in, but Loki wrote that off as concern for his injury. He pulled off the apron as he sat the last dish down on the table; a steaming plateful of broccoli. 

“There are cookies for dessert,” Loki said, and everyone’s eyes were on him now. “But you have to eat your vegetables if you want any.” Most of the table shared a groan, and Loki tutted at them as he went to hang the apron up. “Come now, are you fearless defenders of the innocent or not? You all worked very hard today, you need to keep your strength up. A few vegetables never hurt anybody.”

Tony sighed and started spooning some broccoli onto his plate, determined not to let leafy green undesirables get in the way of him and his cookies. Natasha looked up at Loki as he came back to the table, eyes wide and innocent. “I can’t stand broccoli,” she admitted, shamelessly playing up her facial expressions. “If I eat twice as many vegetables tomorrow night, can I still have a cookie?”

Loki tilted his head to the side and frowned in thought. That was fair enough, wasn’t it? Mind made up, he went back over to the stove and grabbed a cookie, which he handed to an exaggeratedly delighted Natasha (who hadn’t put a single bite of real food onto her plate).

“Hey! No fair! How come she gets a cookie?” Tony exclaimed, outraged (and mouthful of broccoli not entirely chewed; Steve discreetly handed him a napkin, which Tony pointedly ignored).

“Because I can trust her to keep her word,” Loki told him. “She doesn’t blow things up the minute I turn my back, or sneak strange people into her bedroom at night, or let Dum-E overflow the washing machine instead of doing her own laundry. She’s the good one.” He shared another fond glance with Natasha and then turned back to Tony as he finally sat down himself. “It’s not about age, it’s maturity,” Loki sing-songed, dishing out some broccoli for himself (he was no hypocrite!) and the still-convalescing Thor. Bruce was actually looking like he was a little bit worried about him at this point, which Loki chose to attribute to Thor’s head injury. Tony put his head in his hands, muttering a hopeless _But I’m the one that lets you all live here_ under his breath.

Natasha broke the cookie in two and passed half to Clint under the table, and Loki folded his hands primly in his lap and pretended not to notice. 

—————

After dinner Loki arranged blankets and pillows on the floor in a semicircle and called everyone to gather around for Sandalgorfs. Now even Natasha was staring at him in confusion, but Thor’s face was filled with childlike glee. “Really?” he asked, adorably excited, and Loki smiled at him fondly. 

“Yes, really,” he said. “Now let’s get a move-on, chop chop!”

Thor obediently sat down cross-legged on one of the pillows; everyone else was still lost. Clint took a half-step back and looked around the room warily. “Is it safe?” he mumbled under his breath. Natasha flicked him on the ear, and Thor laughed merrily.

“Of course it is!” He turned his head to look at them and waved them over. “It’s just a game, Mother used to play it with us when we were children. It’s simple, you’ll see.”

The others slowly came forward and claimed their seats; Loki took his place across from them all and smiled, pleased, at the assembled group. “Now, let’s see, where shall we begin…”

“You should choose something Midgardian,” Thor suggested. “Something from a long time ago, perhaps, so Steve can still play.”

“Are you in charge, or am I?” Loki asked reprovingly, and Thor ducked his head. He turned to Natasha. “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” he asked her.

“…vegetable?” Natasha selected, bewildered.

Loki nodded. “Vegetable… Let’s see… All right, so, once upon a time there was a turnip farmer. His name was Volstagg—“ Thor’s left eye twitched— “and he lived in a quaint little cottage in the country with his family.” He conjured a little ball of light and tossed it at Thor. “Seven.”

Thor caught it and tilted his head in thought. “The farmer had two children, twins, whose…” He passed the ball to Tony. “Thirteen.”

Tony had been a good choice; he caught on quickly. “…favorite flavor of jellybeans was carrot. His rival/neighbor farmer farmed carrots, so this…” He passed to Clint. “Four.”

“Is a ridiculous story,” Clint complained, and Loki tutted at him and summoned the ball back to his hand. “Penalty,” he chided. “Mulligan. Four,” he echoed, sending the ball Bruce’s way.

“…made the farmer want…” Bruce added half-heartedly, passing the ball off to Steve as quickly as he could. “Twenty.” He settled back into the little fort he’d made under the blankets, sifting through the latest lab reports on his StarkTab contentedly.

Steve thought for a long moment before he spoke. “…to work hard to foster cooperation and peace between the two families.” Everyone groaned, Tony the loudest of them all. “So he gathered the townspeople and arranged a…” He looked around thoughtfully, then passed the ball to Natasha. “Five?”

Natasha didn’t hesitate for even a second. “martial arts and weaponry tournament.” She passed the turn back to Thor, who was grinning. “Eight.”

“The strongest warriors in the land gathered from far and wide—”

Loki hated to interrupt a story Thor was clearly enjoying spinning, but rules were rules. “Penalty,” he said again. “Too many words.” Clint looked pleased that he wasn’t the only one getting marked down, and Thor looked a little embarrassed at having gotten so carried away (especially being the only other participant who actually knew the rules).

The game continued on in a similar fashion for about an hour, until Loki called last five turns and Tony finished the story with “…and their descendants drank the turnip-flavored rainwater for centuries to come, and no one ever challenged the carrot farmers’ claim on the blacksmithery ever again. The end.”

There was some shuffling around and they got up to stretch, and Loki loftily proclaimed Bruce the winner. They were all nonplussed (none more so than Bruce, who had actively avoided participating as much as possible), not having even known there was a score, but Thor was nodding sagely in agreement with the ruling and arguing with a referee never ended well—and was near suicide when said referee was Loki. So they just shrugged at each other and settled down to lounge on the assorted chairs and couches while Loki gathered the pillows and tucked them neatly back into the storage closet around the corner.

“It’s nearly bedtime,” Loki said when he popped his head back in, garnering him quite a few more stares. He sighed resignedly. “Oh, fine. I guess saving the world earns you a few extra hours of R&R. I need someone to help me clean up the kitchen later, though. Any volunteers?”

Natasha looked up from where she was playing an elaborate hand-signals game with Clint on the couch. “I’ll do the dishes in a little while,” she offered. 

“You’re my favorite,” Loki said, leaning over the back of the couch to ruffle her hair with a grin.

“Hey!” Thor called, actually looking hurt, and Loki rolled his eyes and went over to cuddle with him on the couch, making sure he was fully covered by the blanket he’d snagged from the floor.

“You’re a different kind of favorite altogether,” Loki reassured him. “There was never any contest.” Thor relaxed a bit, and Loki prodded the steak that was still attached to his head, decided it had probably outlived its usefulness, and vanished it. “Nat’s totally having our babies, though,” he continued, causing Thor and every other living creature in the room to sit up straight, jaws hitting the floor.

“I will find you the most awesome surrogate ever,” Natasha returned cheerfully, nudging Clint’s jaw back into place with one finger, “but there is no way in hell I’m letting a superpowered god-child kick at my insides for nine months.”

Loki frowned. “You’re not my favorite anymore,” he said plaintively, snuggling into Thor’s chest for comfort. “I need a new favorite, Thor,” he complained. “Help.” Thor looked lost, and Natasha just laughed. Clint was Clint, and Bruce was absorbed in his StarkTab again. Tony was absorbed in staring at Steve, and Loki turned his eyes to him as well—and then there was one. 

“Steve!” he exclaimed happily, causing both Tony and Steve to jump and stare at him suddenly. “You’re supposed to be the nice one, right? Paragon of all-American goodness and all that? You can be my new favorite.” They all just stared at him. “You like rules, right? You can help me get everyone to bed on time,” he grinned, and Steve’s mouth opened and closed a few times wordlessly. 

He hadn’t gotten an answer yet, so Loki decided to sweeten the deal. “I’ll make you lots of banana and honey sandwiches?” he tried. Steve looked a little tempted at that, in addition to entirely flummoxed, and he reluctantly agreed—mostly to avoid conflict, but what Loki didn’t know (probably) couldn’t hurt any of them. Tony didn’t look very pleased at this—and neither did Thor, which was something Loki actually cared about.

“Don’t worry, I’m bringing some of the honey to our room tonight,” he whispered to Thor, who groaned exasperatedly and started thumping his forehead repeatedly against Mjolnir. The others—even Bruce—took notice of that, and they all stood and quickly made their excuses to head back to their respective floors a little early. None of them wanted to witness a god’s mental breakdown (not that they were sure which god exactly would be having said breakdown).

“Don’t forget to brush your teeth!” Loki called pleasantly after them, pleased that all his boys and girls were getting to bed at a healthy hour. “Get some rest, I’m making apple-cinnamon waffles in the morning!”

That strangled noise was definitely not Tony’s brain imploding as he frantically pressed the door close button over and over on the elevator car they’d all squeezed into. Definitely not.

Loki smiled contentedly and curled up snugly against Thor’s side, and let himself be lulled to sleep by the sound of his brother playing with his hammer.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I stayed true to the spirit of the prompt, but come on, of course Nat knows exactly what Loki’s up to. And she’s totally his favorite. I love any scenario where those two interact, not gonna lie. 
> 
> I don’t know exactly what this turned into, really. I’m not very good at making things funny. But I tried! If you hate it I’ll ply you with fluff to make it better.


End file.
